Consequences
by wih
Summary: House is seriously ill and Wilson is worried. HouseWilson established relationship. Now 4 chapters long... and finished!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was written for a prompt I found over at LJ in the SickHouse community. I just thought I might as well post it here too. If you read, please review. **

**Warning: unbetaed **

_**It was a morning pretty much like any other - the leg was its usual self, he'd had the usual restless night - but today something was definitely not right with House**_. He hadn't even opened his eyes yet when he realized that something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

There was a pain in his chest he'd never felt before and there was also a shooting pain in his left arm. He was having trouble breathing. He was starting to sweat.

The rational part of House's brain immediately shifted from first gear into fourth – diagnostitian mode – and started sorting through the symptoms, quickly coming up with a diagnosis.

He was having a heart attack.

When he'd reached that conclusion the snarky part of his brain couldn't keep quiet, but had to chime in: _Fucking great! You haven't even lifted a finger today and you're already dying..._

House tried opening his eyes, but that didn't help much. The room was spinning. He opened his mouth and managed to croak one word.

„Wilson!"

No answer came forth. House wondered briefly where Wilson was at this early hour, but then he remembered. Wilson wasn't there. Wilson wasn't living with him any more. Because he, House, had driven him away, had broken up with him, like he'd always done when a relationship got too close.

_Fucking Fantastic!_

He was dying and there was noone there to help him, or at least be with him, because he was too much of a self-centered bastard to maintain a functioning relationship with another human being. All he had left was Steve McQueen. And for some reason that thought wasn't very comforting.

_Think, House, think!_

His cellphone. Right. He could call an ambulance. If they arrived in time he might have a chance. The attack didn't seem to be too serious. House fumbled for his cellphone, which he had left on his nightstand the previous evening. His vision was blurry, but he managed to press 911 and the dial-button. Now all he had to do was speak...

_Get a grip, damn it!_

„How may I help you?" The words traveled slowly through the haze that was building up in his brain. The small part of it that remained focused, told him what to do.

_You have to speak. NOW!_

„Need... help" House croaked wondering if the words made any sense. „Heart attack..."

„Where are you sir? Do you have anyone there who might assist you?"

The words didn't register, but House knew he had to tell the woman where he was. If he didn't, they wouldn't be able to send an ambulance. So he pulled himself together once more. The pain in his chest was getting worse, he could barely breathe, spots danced in front of his eyes.

„Baker Street... two... two one... B. Greg... House. Quick!"

Maybe he'd misjudged the seriousness of the attack when he'd thought it wasn't too bad.

Everything went black.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

„How bad is it?"

He knew that voice. He knew that he knew that voice, because he liked the sound of it. He remembered listening to it. Who was it? _Just open your eyes and see, moron_. Ahhh, Snarky was up too. Should he open his eyes? _Noooo... to tired! Just keep listening._

„I don't know. The medics said they reached his home only five minutes after he called. Lucky they were in the area. But it looked pretty grim anyway. He's lucky if he wakes up alright, at all."

He knew that voice too. But he didn't like it as much as the first one. It was higher and a little squeaky. He wanted the first voice to speak again.

„God, I should never have left him. I should have been there for him. What if he doesn't wake up again?"

The voice sounded so sad and tired, House wanted to reach out and tell it that things would be alright. But he couldn't summon the energy. So he just kept listening.

„It's not your fault. Noone could have known he'd have a heart attack..."

„...He already had an infarction once, it was only a matter of time."

„Okay, but it could have happened anytime and anywhere. And besides, wasn't he the one who threw you out? It's not like you had a choice."

_What the hell are they talking about?_

Couldn't they be more specific? Who threw whom out? What was the voice's fault? Damn it, what were they doing here with him anyway? And where was **here**? What happened?

_Too many questions!! Stop thinking, listen!_

Somewhere in the background was a slow, steady beeping noice. Heart-monitor, House's brain supplied. It sounded alright enough. Whoever it was, was probably out of the depths. The beeping also meant that he was in a hospital.

„I know!" Now the voice sobbed. A heartbreaking sound. I made House want to reach out. But that would mean he had to open his eyes first.

„Wilson..." The other voice was soothing. _Good_. That meant he didn't have to move just yet.

_Wilson_...

The word sank in slowly. A face appeared which was attached to that name. A handsome face, smiling happily, brown eyes sparkling, hair unkempt and tie hanging loose.

_Wilson_...

Another expression. Sad, this time, shocked, disbelieving, hurt. So much pain in those beautiful brown eyes. The eyes were begging - _Please, don't do this... _He remembered those words.

_Wilson_...

Memories came rushing back now. The break-up. Wilson moving out. Being alone again. Waking up in the morning with a pain in his chest. Calling for help. What a strange thing life was.

_You threw him out. He should be the one lying here with a broken heart. Not you. Your heart hasn't been broken... _

Could one break his own heart? What an intrigueing question. He'd have to think about it - later. Now there were more pressing matters he needed to deal with. Namely opening his eyes. There was a short quiet struggle between will and body, but in the end will won.

House opened his eyes.

There he was. Wilson. And next to him stood... Cuddy... right. She had put her hand on Wilson's arm. House couldn't see his expression, because he'd turned around to look at their boss. Cuddy's eyes strayed over to House.

„Wilson!" She gasped staring at House. Wilson spun around. „Greg!"

_Oh god, those brown eyes, so big and full of worry_.

And he was the reason for it. If he'd had any energy left he'd have felt guilty and blushed. But as it was, all he had the strength to do was not to give into that urge to go to sleep again.

They stared at each other for an eternity.

Dr. Cuddy stepped around and approached the other side of House's bed. She was saying something, but House wasn't paying her any attention. He was completely focused on Wilson's face. The only thought in his head was that he wanted to see Wilson happy again. The way he had looked in that first memory.

_Do something! Show him you're okay_.

But he wasn't sure what. All the worry and sadness and fear in Wilson's face made House's chest hurt. The beeping sound in the background became faster and slightly erratic. Dr. Cuddy was speaking again, but still House ignored her.

_Gotta make him smile again_.

Only by sheer force of will was House able to raise his hand. He turned it palm-up and reached out for Wilson.

_Say something!_

„I'm... okay... don't worry." His voice sounded horrible. Like a bullfrog who'd choked on a fly. But at least he'd spoken. Wilson now knew that things were alright. He could stop worrying. Strangely enough Wilson's eyes suddenly filled with tears.

That was odd. What had he said? He was sure he'd said the right thing... Why was Wilson crying? House was confused. He blinked several times, trying to get some sense into the situation. At least Cuddy had stopped talking.

Then Wilson moved. He stepped closer to the bed and took House's still outstretched hand. Through his tears Wilson said something. House tried to focus again. He had to listen now. This would be important.

„House, do you know what happened to you?"

_Sure I do. This isn't something you'd forget easily_.

„heart-attack"

House's eyes drifted shut. It was astonishing how much energy it took to say one simple word.

„House, stay with me. Just a couple more minutes, then you can go back to sleep." Wilson's voice was calm, but House could still detect an underlying strain. He opened his eyes again. Anything for Wilson...

_Anything for Wilson... _

What a strange thing to think. House couldn't remember ever thinking it before. But he realized it was true. He'd do anything for Wilson. He had to let him know. Had to tell him.

„Anything for... you."

Wilson's eyes widened in surprise. Good. Now that he'd started he might as well get it all out. He wanted to explain, to apologize, to let Wilson know how much of an idiot he'd been. How horrible those last two days alone had been. That he wanted to make it up to Wilson. That he wanted Wilson back in his apartment, in his life. But he couldn't summon the energy. All he could manage was one sentence.

„I love you."

As his eyes drifted shut he caught one last glimpse of Wilson's face. His eyes shone and his lips formed the words House didn't need to hear, to know what they meant. Everything went black again and the last thing he knew, was that the rhythm of the beeping was steady again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next time House woke up to the feeling of something pricking his skin. He opened his eyes to find out the cause and if it was serious enough to require any movement.

Dr. Chase was standing beside the bed, drawing blood from House's arm. He noticed that House had woken up and smiled reassuringly.

„I'll be done in a second. Just hold still." he said in an attempt to soothe his boss. House just grunted and let his eyes travel through the rest of the room. ICU – his brain supplied immediately. He had no trouble remembering what had happened to him this time.

In the corner of the room Wilson was sitting in a chair. He had obviously been asleep only moments before, because he was blinking confusedly, trying to get his bearings. House's lips curled into the smallest of smiles. He loved those first moments of Wilson waking up. He always looked so confused and young.

Wilson got to his feet and came over. „Hey. How are you feeling?"

„Dandy..." House noticed that his voice didn't sound as bad as before. Good. „Give me details."

Wilson obviously knew what he meant, because he promptly supplied the desired information.

„You had a heart attack. The paramedics found you just in time. They gave you Nitro and Oxygen and brought you here and we did an EKG and an Angiography. Fortunately they didn't need to do an Angioplasty, because the Thrombolytics helped. Your now on Heparin and BetaBlockers and Morphine for the pain.

You're going to have to stay here for at least another couple days, to make sure there is no lasting damage, but I think you can be refered to a normal room soon."

House nodded. It all sounded simple enough. He looked up at Wilson again and saw that his friend was watching him intently. Chase had left sometime during Wilson's speech and now they were alone. The curtains screening them from their surroundings.

_Gotta talk feelings now..._

The realization made House's stomach clench. He hated those kind of talks. But he also knew that this time there was no way around it. Not after he'd said the L-word...

Well, he wouldn't be the one to start.

_If he wants to talk, let him go first._

Wilson kept looking at House. It was evident form his expression that he was trying to find the right words. The right way to get to House, without offending him or driving him into sarcasm.

„How are you feeling?"

_So he's decided to start safe... Well, already answered that one didn't I._

„I'm tired and I feel like I've just been rolled over by a bulldozer, but otherwise I'm fine."

That was the longest explanation of 'how he felt' in a long time. If that didn't satisfy Wilson then he didn't know what would.

„You're going to feel better in a few days. It seems your heart hasn't suffered any lasting damage. We'll confirm that later." Wilson cleared his throat. „How do you **feel**?"

House was confused for a second. He'd answered that question half a minute ago. Then the meaning dawned on him. _Shit_... He'd have to talk about **feelings** now. Life sucked.

„I... erm..." he struggled for words. „I'm sorry."

There, now he'd said it. His second most hated sentence in the world. Came right after that three-word one with the L-word. Christ, Wilson was a real bastard. Making him do this a few hours after he'd almost died.

„Sorry for what?"

_Good Lord, use your brain, moron!_

House rushed the next words so fast, Wilson had trouble getting the meaning. „I'm sorry I broke up with you. I'm sorry for being such a cowardly ass. I'm sorry that I made you worry about me. I'm sorry..." he drifted off.

„Well, the heart attack wasn't your fault. But all the rest... if... if you really mean it then... I accept your aplology and I forgive you."

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. He was obviously feeling nervous. House rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to tell Wilson what a wuss he was. But the words got lost somewhere along the way and what he said instead was:

„Will you move back in with me?"

God, this heart attack had turned him into a wuss too...

Wilson lips curled into a smile halfway between mocking and joyful. A smile he'd definitely stolen form House. Apparently it was one of those smiles that were contagious, because House could feel his own lips curl. He suddenly felt a fervent urge to touch Wilson. His hands went up before he could stop himself and he held his arms open for an embrace.

_You Idiot! He hasn't even answered yet!_

House could feel himself blush and he slowly started to put his hands down. But before he'd moved more than an inch Wilson was there, between his arms, bending down and gently stroking House's cheek. He bent down lower until his mouth was next to Houses ear and then he spoke.

„As you wish!"

The beeping in the background sped up.

House felt a rush of relief and... was that happiness? – what a strange feeling, but not bad. No definitely not bad. He brought his hands around Wilson's back and pulled him closer, not caring if the position might be uncomfortable for Wilson.

After a while Wilson pulled his head back and planted a kiss on House's lips. Then he started to move and House was suddenly afraid he might pull away. But Wilson just repositioned himself so that he was lying on the bed next to House.

„Don't you think I'd make a much better 'Dread Pirate Roberts' than you?"

„Shut up, Buttercup!"

House grinned and let the topic rest. There was always time for it later. Now all that was important was feeling Wilson next to him. Feeling alive.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They had to entangle themselves eventually. Wilson had to go and see his patients. But he promised to come back later. He kept his promise.

„Hey!" Wilson stuck his head into House's room. House had been moved to a normal room a couple hours earlier and was watching a rerun of 'General Hospital'. He turned the TV off when Wilson stepped inside. He had a snarky remark on his lips when he realized Wilson's serious expression. He bit back the remark.

„House. We need to talk." Wilson pulled a chair close and sat down beside House's bed.

_Oh no, not now!_

„If you want me to move back in with you, things are going to have to change."

„You already agreed to move back in. You can't say yes and set conditions later."

_Get him distracted..._

But Wilson wasn't to be distracted. Not now, not yet. This was too important for him, House could see the determination on his face.

„House!"

„Alright, which conditions?"

„First: You go and get yourself a reasonable pain-management. Second: You start eating more healthy – and no more binge-drinking. Third: You go to cardiac therapy and there will be no bolting out after three sessions this time."

House pulled a face. He didn't like the sound of this. Didn't like it at all.

_Gotta find a way out of this..._

„If there is any problem I'll be there for you. We'll go through this together. But if I find you cheating or giving up I'll be gone. And I won't come back. This is our last chance. Do you get me?"

Oh, he got Wilson alright. He'd never seen him look more serious and determined. And as much as he hated being forced into something he had to admit that Wilson was right. This had been his second infarction.

He was lucky to be alive. If he wanted to stay alive he had to change his lifestyle. And he was surprised to find that he didn't mind as much as he would have thought. Of course there was a lot of bitching from his snarky brain-part. But for the first time in ages that part lost to the rational part.

And he discovered that there was yet another part of him, a part that really really wanted to be with Wilson, wanted to be happy and have a future...

His emotions must have played on his face, because Wilson's expression relaxed. He looked at House kindly. House scrunched up his face and gave Wilson the answer he wanted to hear.

„Alright, I'll try..." Wilson opened his mouth in protest. „...I'll do it. Everything you said. But you'll have to help me and I might be a pain in the ass sometimes."

Wilson's protest turned into a smile. „You've always been a pain in the ass. I can deal with that. What I can't deal with is losing you. - I love you."

„Love you too... Now come over here!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: ok, here's a new chapter... **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

House was discharged five days after the heart attack. By this time Wilson had moved his stuff back into House's apartment and cleaned the whole place. („How can **one** man produce that much rubbish and chaos in only four days?")

If it had been up to House he would have been back at work as soon as he was bale to stand up straight. But Dr. Roberts, his attending cardiologist and Wilson had been firm, that he remain at least five days in hospital and another two weeks at home. Wilson wanted to make sure everything was alright before releasing House onto the world again.

House was sitting in Dr. Roberts office, letting the whole 'your life after the infarction" tirade wash over him.

„... I recommend lifestyle changes, including changing your diet, and increasing your physical activity, to lower your chances of having another heart attack. I'd also like to send you to cardiac rehab to help you recover and to help prevent another heart attack. Almost everyone who has had a heart attack can benefit from rehab. The heart is a muscle, and the right exercise will strengthen it..."

When Dr. Roberts paused to take a breat House rolled his eyes and said. „Jeeze, Roberts, I'm a doctor too you know. Can't we just skip the part?"

„To me you're a patient and it is my job to inform you of the risks and possibilities."

„Did Wilson put you up to this?"

„No, the law put me up to this. Shouldn't you know that, being a doctor and all?" Roberts waited for House to respond, but when nothing came but another heavy eyeroll he continued.

_God, I'm getting soft, I'd never have let anyone off so easily before... Must be all the Cameron-vibes I've been subjected to. _

The rest of the appointment went fairly quickly, with House making only a couple more comments, but not putting up any real fight. For some reason the whole experience had scared him to the bones (even more than the infarction) and he was determined not to let it happen again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wilson picked House up and drove them home. House was feeling a little uneasy. Wilson had been uncharacteristically un-pushy after their 'talk' and now House was waiting for the dam to break. Wilson would probably start lecturing as soon as they were back at the apartment.

_It was your decision to live with the guy. Now you'll have to live with the consequences..._

At least Wilson could cook. And Wilson wouldn't desert him when things got crappy.

House thought back to what he always called 'post-infarction-time' in his head. Back to the last weeks with Stacy and how they had always fought. Well, there would be fights with Wilson too. They always fought over some thing or other, but at least he knew that Wilson wouldn't leave him. Not unless he, House, fucked up big time on their agreement.

_No intention of doing that!_

House remembered his words to Wilson from about two years ago. „You eat neediness." Part of him recoiled from the idea of being the object of Wilson's 'obsession', but another part was strangely comforted by the idea.

_Turning into a sappy fool, House?_

When had this started? He'd never been that... soft with any of his former girlfriends.

_Must be Wilson's fault then. Just blame everything on Wilson. He can take it_.

Wilson's voice pulled him out of his reverie. „So, have you thought about pain-management yet? I heard that Tanaka over at Atlantic General is supposed to be good."

_You've been wrong... He doesn't even wait till we're home._

„Tanaka's an idiot. And besides, she's a SHE. I want a male doctor."

„Alright. Who d'you want then?" Wilson was keeping his voice light and casual, as if that made the conversation any better.

House shrugged. He stared out the side window, looking anywhere but at Wilson. „I thought about Montague over at Princeton General. He knows what he's doing, plus he's not so far away. Might as well try him out."

When Wilson didn't answer immediatly House broke his former resolve and turned his head. Wilson looked pleasantly encouraged.

_Damn, you **are** getting soft...__Well, at least it makes **him** happy._

Wilson finally answered. „Okay. Do you want me to make an appointment or do you want to call yourself?"

„Relax. I already called from the hospital. I've got an appointment next Monday."

This time House made sure to watch Wilson's face closely.

_Priceless! Alright, you might be getting soft, but at least you can still surprise him!_

Wilson turned his head and stared at House, confusion, surprise and happiness fighting for space on his features.

„Watch the road, moron! I didn't survive a heart attack to be killed by your crappy driving."

Wilson immediatly turned his attention back to the road, but that didn't stop him from talking.

„You... you really made an appointment?"

„I promised you I would." House sounded as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

„Yeah... I... I just thought, I don't know... I expected a lot more fighting..." Wilson sounded guilty.

„Yeah, well, I've had enough excitement lately."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Five minutes later they reached the apartment.

The moment the door had closed behind them House grabbed Wilson, shoved him against the wall and began attacking his lips.

„Steady!" Wilson mumbled before surrendering to House's roaming hands and mouth. The next time one of them uttered something more eloquent than a moan was when House pulled back a little and said breathless. „Should move this to the bedroom, eh?"

Wilson pulled back too. „Do you think this is a good idea?"

House was confused. Wilson had never before been so hesitant when it came to having sex. At least not when it happened in the private space of their apartment.

Wilson elaborated. „You've just had a heart-attack. We really shoudn't..."

_Damn him! Bloody doctors... should have started dating a trucker... _

„Shut up! If I die tonight at least I die a happy man!"

„HOUSE!" Wilson pulled away completely looking hurt. „You are not going to die anytime soon. Is that clear!"

House swallowed. „You don't know that. I could have another attack any minute or the house could collapse on us..."

_Better play it down. You don't want him starting to cry on you... _

Wilson rubbed his eyes furiously. When he answered his voice was higher than usual. „Yes and we could all be abducted by aliens..." he tried to joke, but then became serious again. „We both know the risks House. I just don't want us to risk more than is neccessary."

House sighed. Again, Wilson was probably right. „Fine!" he said rather aggressively and went over to the sofa to slump down on it.

Wilson came over and sat next to him. „We could just sit here and relaxe and enjoy each other's company." He offered.

House knew Wilson was attempting to cheer him up. He sulked another couple minutes with Wilson waiting patiently beside him. Then he edged closer and leant against Wilson, resting his head on the other mans shoulder. „Fine." he said much calmer.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

House actually went to his appointment, without Wilson having to tackle and sedate him first. During the days leading up to Monday he'd thought about not going a few times, but everytime he considered the option the memories of sleeping alone and waking up miserable and in pain resurfaced.

So he figured that he'd had more than seven years to ignore and abuse his body. And his body, refusing to give up completely so far, probably deserved a break. Maybe it was time for a change.

He'd insisted that Wilson did **not** accompany him to the appointment.

_My pain. My body. My business. _

Wilson had looked a little sceptical at first, but finally given in.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Wilson came home that evening, he opened the door to the sounds of music. Not the piano, he noticed, but the guitar.

House looked up shortly when Wilson entered, but didn't stop playing. Wilson, hearing the song, couldn't help but smile. He let House continue and went through his usual coming-home-routine before he settled himself on the sofa and waited for House to finish.

When the last chords were floating into silence, House focused his attention on Wilson. He knew what was coming.

_I wonder if I should make him squirm?_

But then he saw Wilson's scrunched-up-in-apprehension face and decided it wasn't worth it. Wilson had probably suffered enough for the time being. But that didn't mean he would make it easy for him.

Wilson rubbed the bridge of his nose. „So... How was your day?"

„Fine. Yours?"

_Well, maybe make him squirm just a little bit._

Wilson frowned, clearly wondering if it was safe to push on, or if he should just give up and wait for House to start on his terms. House took mercy on him.

„The appointment went alright. Noone was seriously hurt or killed."

Wilson visibly relaxed. He waited for House to give him details.

„Nothing much happened. We just went through my medical history and my expectations for the future." The last words came out rather mockingly.

„Are you going again?" Wilson's voice was carefully guarded.

House pulled a face, but then shrugged and gave a slight, reluctant nod. „Made an appointment for Friday."

At this Wilson broke into a small smile and House's stomach immediatly did a backflip.

_Good Lord!_

He seriously needed to get a grip. He'd almost reached out to hug Wilson! For no reason at all... unbelievable.

_Change the topic!_

„So, what's for dinner?"

„You were at home all day. What did you cook your man?" Wilson tried to give him a blank expression, but House could see the humor sparkle in his eyes.

„Me? Cook? I'm the sick person, remember? You're supposed to take care of me. And besides, **you're** the woman in this relationship."

Wilson let out a put upon sigh. „Give me a minute and I'll see what I can come up with..."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ok, I tried to research the whole medication thingy, but it's just sooooo damn complicated. (My own damn fault to give him an illnes like this, I know!).  
Well, last night I eventually came to the point when I wanted do hand House a box of aspirin and tell him to be content with it or snuff it.  
I then decided to make the medical stuff as vague as possible. If anyone has any suggestions as to what he can and can't take with his conditions, I'd gladly change the story accordingly!

Further A/N: This capter is dedicated to _chaoskir _and her lovely braincell! Hope she doesn't kill me for posting on weekends:-)

--------------------------------------------------------

House went to his second appointment with Montague on Friday and it didn't go just as well as the first one. Montague tried to talk him into going to a shrink and then he began talking about depression and not dealing with issues...

It had taken all of House's self-restraint not to start a screaming match or go storming out indignantly.

_If Wilson only knew what I'm willing to go through for him..._

At least Montague's ideas about the change in his medication were acceptable. He'd had a talk with Roberts and they'd co-ordinated his meds: House was willing to try the new medication and see how it worked out. What he was adamant when it came to seeing a shrink.

_Don't need anyone trying to fuck with my head, thank you very much!_

His head was perfectly fine as it was. And besides, the two times in his life he'd tried talking to a shrink, he'd ended up analysing their life and problems instead of his own. Since then he'd stayed well clear of that kind of crap.

When Wilson came home, looking all hopefull and wanting to know how the appointment had gone, House only gave him a rather abreviated version. He basically stuck to the meds-part and left out all the arguing about his mental state.

Once he had finished Wilson seemed relieved. House thought about telling him the rest, but then decided it wasn't worth upsetting the peace they'd so recently established. He could always tell Wilson about it later or better yet never at all.

House started his physical therapy the following week. He had simply refused to join an existing group _„I'm not a group-session-kinda-guy.", _but he had agreed to do all the activities his therapist suggested.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He returned to work after his two weeks off, glad to be out of the apartment and have something to occupy his mind. Sitting around with nothing to do but watch TV and talk to Steve McQueen had had a bad effect on his moods, as Wilson had quickly discovered.

After his return to work things got a little easier. House still complained about all the healthy food Wilson made him eat, but it was more out of habit than real dislike.

Four weeks into his new post-infarction-post-heart-attack life he had a particularly bad case. None of his theories proved right, None of the test came back with workable results. It was infuriating. He spend hours in his office, playing yo-yo and throwing his balls around.

_What the hell is wrong with you? Suddenly lost half of you brain? Come on, think!_

But no epiphany presented itself. He yelled at his team until Cameron broke into tears and Foremans scowl looked a lot like it would turn into another resignation-letter. But still no answers.

On top of it all, after two days of guessing and their patient slowly dying, he had another appointment with Montague and the guy dared to suggest group-therapy again. This time House did yell at him, but regretably, it didn't do much to improve his temper.

Around five he decided he'd had enough and went home.

_If that moron dies tonight, so be it!_

On his way home he stopped at a gas station and bought a bottle of Teachers. It was horrible stuff compared to what he used to drink, but he didn't really care. All he wanted was to get pissed and forget his miserable existence.

He shortly considered Wilson, but:

_to hell with him and his conditions! I need a break._

He'd settled himself on his sofa and was on his second glass of the amber liquid, when a key turned in the lock.

_Damn it! He's home early._

He had been hoping he would be so far gone by the time Wilson came home, he wouldn't be able to deal with this right away. House could feel his stomach twist with dread. That was surprising.

_You're afraid of Wilson. Way to go, buddy. _

He just remained were he was, the glass in his hand, but not drinking from it. Wilson dropped his things and took off his jacket before coming around the couch.

„Hey House. Chase told me you'd gone home early. Still no idea about your..." He stopped abruptly taking in the sight of the open whiskey bottle and House holding a half-full glass.

„HOUSE!"

House didn't look up at him. He could tell exactly how Wilson looked like. No need to actually see his face.

„What?" he snapped. _Bad idea... very bad idea!_

„What?... WHAT??? ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND!"

Shrug.

„WE HAD AN AGREEMENT!"

„No need to scream, Wilson."

„NO NEED... God!" Wilson rubbed his face furiously, trying to calm himself down. Finally he spoke again, in a slightly calmer voice. „I thought we had agreed that you would stop drinking and would come to me instead if there were any problems."

„Maybe I didn't want to **talk**."

_God, your sounding like a sulking six-year old... _

„So you think drinking alcohol and risking your life will help you figure out your problems."

House couldn't take it anymore. He wished people – and one person in particular – would just leave him the hell alone. The next words burst out of him, before he'd really thought about them.

„Do you have any idea how much of this psycho-babble I've had to listen to already? Everybody's trying to analyse me. You really think it's gonna make me change, if you people keep repeating yourself over and over again? Here's the truth: It's not going to! It hasn't in the past forty years and it's not going to in the next forty. So why don't you just cut it out and leave me alone!"

After his outburst Wilson looked at him with those hurt-accusing brown eyes of his and this aggravated House even more. When Wilson turned and headed for the door he shouted after him.

„Why don't you go and find someone who actually wants your help!"

The door slammed shut and House was alone. Just like he'd wanted.

_Damn..._ „Fuck! Bloody fucking shit!"

House flung the glass he was still holding against the wall. When that didn't have the desired effect he grabbed the bottle and send it flying the same way. It shattered against the wall, spilling half the room with whiskey.

_Fantastic... you've just destroyed your only way to get pissed..._

He slumped down against the sofa cushions and sulked. Unfortunately the combined feelings of guilt and regret soon made the sulking much less fun. With another loud curse he got up and went to bed. Alone. Again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TBC.


	4. Chapter 4

**  
**

The next morning House was up early. He hadn't really slept that night. His thoughts had been circling around the familiar topics of Wilson, his pain, Wilson, his selfdestructive habits and Wilson, trying to find a way to combine them without it ending in murder.

When the first light of dawn crept across his bedroom he got up. The livingroom smelled of stale whiskey. House sighed and went to fetch a bucket and water.

_Better clean this up, before it's completely dry... _

The cleaning didn't do anything to reduce the pain in his leg and by the time House arrived at the hospital his mood couldn't sink any lower.

„Dr. House!" Cameron came running towards him, waving a file. „We finally got some test results that make sense!" She gasped breathlessly looking at him like a dog who'd just brought back the stick.

„Gimme!" House barked and Cameron's expression shifted into offended.

_Well, not my fault if she's such a cry-baby... _

He studied the results in the elevator and when they reached his office he barked his instructions at the team and then barricaded himself in his office.

He felt like throwing up. Everything sucked. All he wanted was to be alone... no, that was a lie. What he really wanted was Wilson. Wilson and him sitting together, relaxed, laughing at each others jokes and not a worry in sight.

There was a pain in his chest... House panicked. Not another heart attack!

_Fuck, where's the damn Nitro???_

He frantically searched his drawers, knocking over a couple of things on his desk in the process. He found the pills and put one into his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, trying to relax.

_Breathe. In. Out. In. Calm down..._

Chase stuck his head into House's office. „Are you alright?" He asked, his voice concerned.

„I'm fine. Go torture someone else." House waved him away and thankfully Chase left.

House closed his eyes and tried to shut off his brain. It didn't really work, but after a while he managed to stuff his personal issues into one of his brain's back drawers and concentrate on the work ahead. Well, it would have to be enough.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

He ran into Wilson on his way to the cafeteria. He'd waited until after two, to avoid this, but apparently Wilson had done the same.

_Can't even stick to his routine, that idiot!_

House wondered how he should react, but Wilson preempted any moves he might have tried by walking up to him and saying sternly.

„We need to talk."

Frankly, House was surprised that Wilson was acknowledging his presence at all. After the whole debacle last evening he'd thought Wilson had finally cut his losses. Well,he still might have. This could just be a 'I'm going to get my stuff tonight' conversation.

House's heart felt like it was beating way to fast again. He tried to steady it by breathing slowly, deliberatly. But still his voice felt a bit strained when he answered.

„Right. Let's talk then."

„My office. It's more private."

_Private...huh... don't need privacy for a moving-out notice..._

But then again, this was Wilson he was dealing with. One could never be sure with Wilson...

Wilson sat on one of the patient-chairs, waiting for House to sink down on the sofa. House fixed Wilson with one of his stares and waited for the talk to start.

„So, about yesterday... what... I mean, how do you think... things are supposed to go on?" Wilson asked more than a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

The question, although not really surprising, threw House off balance. He thought about all the possible scenarios he'd played out in his mind during the night. He still hadn't found a solution. The silence stretched.

_Got to say something... He's waiting. He deserves an answer... you owe him that._

„Look..." he started, but the rest of the sentence didn't come out.

_I've had a couple bad days. I needed a break. Things were crappy. - How lame! The typical apologies of a pathetic loser. _

„It won't happen again." House tried to sound sincere. He wanted to make Wilson understand that this time, he really meant it. He would never do something that stupid again.

_When did you reach that decision?_

He looked at Wilson intently, willing him to see the seriousness behind his words. Wilson slowly shook his head.

„How can I be sure, House?"

„I can't tell you anything else but that. There are no securities. Only my word."

„Like the last time you promised?" Wilson's tone was almost derisive. House could hardly blame him.

„I'm not giving you a promise. I'm telling you: It won't happen again."

There was a long pause. Wilson stared at House as if daring him to make one of his comments. House simply stared back. He didn't have any comments left. This was too important.

_Please... please give me another chance... _

Wilson let out a slow breath, then he nodded.

_Thank God!_

Considering he didn't actually believe in the guy, he'd been thanking him a lot lately. House dared a small smile and when Wilson answered him with one of his own, he said.

„Wanna grab lunch? It's on me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They were sitting on the sofa like they always did. The room still smelled faintly of whiskey, but Wilson's second cleaning-session had removed almost all the stains that House's hadn't. Wilson had looked rather surprised when House explained how the stains came to be there in the first place.

Then he'd grinned and said „I knew you hadn't gotten pissed after all, when you came in this morning at eight..."

The movie was boring and House felt his thoughts drift to other matters. He had to know. „So, why didn't you throw in the towel after all?"

Wilson shrugged keeping his eyes on the TV. "You said you'd be a pain in the ass. And you know what they say about misery and company."

„Mmhhhh. You know, I always thought Misery doesn't really love Company, Misery just wants Company to distract him."

„That's really sad."

„Hey, I'm not Misery. I'm Greg."

Wilson interlaced their fingers and smiled. „I know."

And House was sure that he did.

**End! Definitely. No more.**

**Except maybe if I decide to write a sequel at some point in the distant future.  
Rewriting is also not out of the possibility-section, if I manage to find the right medication (or someone tells me) for House.  
**


End file.
